


Bloodstained

by snoozingsnuffles



Series: 30 Day Multi-fandom Hurt/Comfort Challenge - November 2019 [4]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: 30 Day Hurt/Comfort Challenge, Father-Son Relationship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-05
Updated: 2019-11-05
Packaged: 2021-01-23 16:44:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21323401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snoozingsnuffles/pseuds/snoozingsnuffles
Summary: Connor returns home after failing to save a little android girl
Relationships: Hank Anderson & Connor
Series: 30 Day Multi-fandom Hurt/Comfort Challenge - November 2019 [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1533236
Comments: 6
Kudos: 132





	Bloodstained

The key scraped against the lock, creating an unpleasant metal-on-metal scratching sound. But Connor didn’t hear it. He bit his lip and willed his sapphire stained hands to stop trembling, but of course, they didn’t. Every time he dared glance down at himself, at his thirium stained shirt and jeans, he was thrown back to the sight of the little android dying in his arms, her blood pouring from her mouth and ears as she desperately cried, and the tremors got worse. 

Connor had failed to comfort her.

The key almost hit home in the old-fashioned lock, but the door swung open before he had the chance to insert it.

“Took you long enough.” Hank’s gruff voice greeted him. “I was starting to think – holy shit!" 

At the lieutenant’s exclamation, Connor forced his gaze upwards. He knew he looked a state; his skin and clothes stained dark blue with thirium that hadn’t had the chance to evaporate, and his LED a bright, solid red.

“Fuck, are you alright?” Hank demanded. He grabbed the android and roughly dragged him inside. Connor let himself be manhandled, and almost tripped over the threshold as his legs suddenly refused to work.

“It’s not mine.” He said automatically, his voice dull and vacant.

“What happened?” Hank asked, his tone softer. He led Connor into the kitchen and deposited him into a chair, and he went along numbly. Sumo trotted up to him and sniffed his blood-stained hands curiously. Connor didn’t have the energy to pay him any mind.

“A-a girl.” His voice was strained and sounded far away, even though he knew his auditory units were functioning at full capability. “An android. A YK500 model. She was attacked by a gang of humans. I only saw them running away as I rounded the corner… She was so scared.” He fixed his gaze on a brown stain on the floor, which was probably tomato sauce at one point. He could feel Hank’s eyes boring into the side of his face.

“I tried to comfort her.” He swallowed hard. He could feel tears prickling at the edge of his eyes, and he blinked them away. “Android emergency services didn’t arrive in time.”

Silence hung heavy in the air after Connor had finished speaking. Sensing the mood, Sumo whined and nosed at Connor’s limp hand.

Hank’s voice broke the silence. “YK500s…” He began. “They’re child models, aren’t they?”

Connor gave a jerky nod and mentally kicked himself. Dead children were a sore subject to Hank; he should have been more tactful…

But that fact was what made the situation that little bit more haunting. Logically, Connor knew the child was likely older than he was, in human terms anyway. But seeing a child’s body so mutilated, with the girl herself with an incomprehensible amount of pain and fear in her youthful eyes made Connor’s internal bio-componants clench.

“Fuck.” Hank said at last as he ran a hand down his face. “Shit. Fuck, Con, I’m so sorry.”

Connor didn’t say anything, he just continued staring at the floor.

Hank shuffled in his seat awkwardly before he stood. Connor glanced tiredly up at him. “Come on.” He prompted, holding out a hand. “Let’s get you cleaned up. You’ll feel better once you’re out of those clothes. Then we can, I dunno, talk about it? Or not. Whatever you want.”

Connor didn’t have the energy to respond, so he simply nodded and accepted the lieutenants outstretched hand. Hank pulled him to his feet, then looped an arm around the androids shoulders to guide him to the bathroom.

Once there, Hank opened the door for him. “Take a shower.” He said. “I’ll get you a change of clothes, ok?”

Connor nodded, his body numb and on auto-pilot. Hank gave him a kind, but forced smile before he backed out of the room and closed the door behind him.

Connor stood alone in the bathroom and listened to the steady drip of their leaky sink tap, which was impossibly loud in the small room. He felt stunned, dazed. He blinked a few times in an attempt to snap himself out of it. He forced his arms to move down to his feet to untie his blood-splattered shoelaces and work his shoes off his feet. Once he had started, he began to speed up. Suddenly it felt as if his clothing was suffocating him. The still-damp thirium caused his clothes to cling uncomfortably to his skin, squeezing the air out of his ventilation units like a boa constrictor. He yanked his once red shirt over his head and tossed it to the floor like it had burned him, where it landed on the tile with a wet, sickening splat.

He twisted the knob on the shower as far left as it would go and stepped into the tub, hurriedly pulling the curtain shut behind him. Scalding water hammered down from above, striking his skin like burning needles. Despite this, he shivered and wrapped his arms around his torso protectively.

He watched the leftover thirium run off his skin and swirl down the drain. The water caused the blood to loose most of its colour, and instead of its shocking, deep blue, it rushed down the drain as a peaceful sky shade. It didn’t do anything to quell the nauseous feeling in Connor’s artificial stomach.

Without his permission, his mind wandered back to the horrific scene and he closed his eyes against the sudden onslaught of unwelcome memories. It had been his day off. Hank had ordered him to relax for once, but Connor was all too aware of the various odd jobs that needed doing around the house. Along with the leaky bathroom faucet, the kitchen sink had begun to clog, so Connor had set off to the convenience store to buy an unblocker.

He never made it that far.

Once he had rounded the corner onto the street lined with small shops, a sharp, panicked scream cut through the air. The street was deserted, apart from a gaggle of humans a few hundred yards before him. Sensing danger, Connor had broken into a quick run. “Stop!” He had called out. “Detroit Police!”

The group turned. Once they saw Connor, they turned on their heels and bolted in the opposite direction and let a small, humanoid figure crumple to the floor. A child.

Connor had already called the police before he had even reached the girl. He didn’t chase the perpetrators; he had seen their faces and they were logged in his memory banks. Instead, he dropped to his knees in front of the injured android, ignoring how the asphalt bit into his skin.

The android was curled in on herself, her blaring red LED still visible. As carefully as he could, Connor turned her over so he could assess the extent of the damage. He was unable to supress a gasp.

It was bad. A deep, diagonal slash ran across the little girl’s face, so deep that it exposed the insides of her plastic skull. Broken wires sparked angrily and thirium poured from the wound as she struggled for breath.

And that wasn’t even the extent of the damage. Connor noticed with bone-chilling horror that her thirium pump was missing, and a quick scan of the area told him it was no-where to be seen. Where it should have sat was instead a gaping, blue hole.

A hoarse sob broke through Connor’s horror, and he tore his attention back to the issue at hand. The girl gazed up at him, eyes wide with fear as blood bubbled around her lips.

“Hey.” Connor said, forcing as much calm into his voice as possible. He lifted her into his arms, careful not to jostle any of her wounds, and cradled her to his chest. Her hand shot up to grab at his shirt, desperate for something to cling onto. Her tears were coming thick and fast. “It hurts.” She hiccupped.

“I know.” Connor said. “You’ll be ok, I promise. Android emergency services are on their way. Just hold on, can you do that for me?”

She shook her head frantically with a stuttering gasp for air. “One minute.” She whispered, her eyes wide and wild. Connor felt his own thirium freeze.

She was shutting down, and she knew it. Whose idea was it to give a YK500 model a shutdown timer?!

There was nothing he could do for her, he realised with a jolt. She was going to die right there in Connor’s arms and there was nothing he could do about it. He couldn’t even take his own pump and give it to her to buy her time. His parts simply weren’t compatible.

Instead, he held her closer to him. She reached out and wrapped her weakening arms around him and wailed into his shoulder.

“You’ll be ok.” He repeated, because what else could he say? “You’ll be ok. It’s all going to be ok.”

He repeated it like a mantra, even though he knew it was a lie.

Suddenly, like a switch had been flipped, the girl’s wails were abruptly cut off. Her arms fell limp to her sides, her hands dangled an inch above the ground.

Dead.

Numb was the only way Connor could describe how he felt in that moment. Numb, even when he was pulled away from the girl’s side to give the police his statement and transfer the footage recorded from his own optical units and the culprit’s ID’s over to their tablets. Numb as android emergency services turned up, too late, and loaded her limp, shrouded body into the back of an ambulance. Numb as he blindly stumbled home, bloodstained an exhausted.

**Stress levels 84%**

He forced himself back into the present, only mildly aware he had begun to hyperventilate. He sank down to the bottom of the tub and wrapped his arms around his knees. He dug his finger nails into his skin as a desperate attempt to ground himself. Distantly, he realised that all the blood had gone and was replaced by his own dazzling white plastic. He was only aware of the pain in the back of his mind; the water had begun to burn him.

He pulled himself up onto unsteady feet and shut off the water. His breaths were loud in the now quiet bathroom, and he desperately tried to quiet them so Hank wouldn’t hear.

Once out of the tub, he began to dry off with fluffy white towels, which still irritated his burnt skin. He noticed his softest pair of pyjamas sat clumsily folded on the closed toilet lid. His soiled clothes were nowhere to be seen. Hank must’ve exchanged them at some point without Connor noticing. He was glad; he really didn’t want to deal with them. Even though the thirium would soon vanish without a trace, Connor thought about throwing them into the trash, or maybe even burning them.

His skin had deactivated along the back of his shoulders, all the way down his back and along his forearms, he noticed. The charred areas ached, but Connor knew they would be repaired soon. Luckily, his pyjamas covered the worst of the damage. He pulled the long-sleeved henley over his head, trying to ignore the way the fabric irritated his burnt flesh and pulled on his flannel pyjama pants. He wasn’t even completely dry, and water dripped into his eyes from his hair.

He spared a quick glance in the mirror – he looked terrible, as far as androids go. His LED was still a warning red and his face lacked its usual colour. His eyes even looked tired and his hair was plastered to his head, which made him look even more haggard. He didn’t have the energy to deal with it.

Hank was hovering near the bathroom door as he emerged. As soon as he saw him, Hank sighed heavily, but his eyes were sympathetic. He reached into the bathroom and pulled out the towel Connor had just used and threw it over his head, plunging the android into semi-darkness.

“You’re alright, Con.” Hank murmured as he began to rub his hair dry. Connor didn’t say anything, just stood rooted to the spot and let Hank finish drying him off.

Once he was done and the towel was returned to the bathroom, Connor didn’t move. He felt as if his feet were stuck in thick, sticky tar. He was vaguely aware of Hank standing in front of him, but Connor didn’t make any move to acknowledge him. Tears were bubbling up behind his eyes again, and he closed them to keep them at bay. If the floodgates opened now, Connor knew they wouldn’t stop.

Hank took a step forward and laid a firm hand on Connor’s shoulder. “Shit, Connor.” He said. “I’m sorry you had to go through that.”

It was beginning to become harder and harder to keep the tears at bay, and one broke free of the confines of his eyelids and trickled free. A sob clawed its way up his throat before he could stop it and suddenly he was crying.

He was moving, a firm hand on his upper arm guided him over to the couch and sat him down on it. A warm body sat next to him and pulled him into his arms. Against his chest, Connor could hear Hank’s heart as it pumped away in his ribcage, a little elevated than normal. There was rustling and a warm weight was laid onto his shoulders, over his head and shrouded his face, like he was an infant being protected from the world. Hank held him tightly in his arms, a hand on top his blanketed head as he cried and gasped for air.

“It’s alright, Con.” Hank murmured. “It’s ok.”


End file.
